


How to Get a Midgardian Boyfriend: a Guide by Charles Odinson

by cachinnation



Category: Thor (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Adoption Runs in the Family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Crack Crossover, Erik/Capes OTP, Gen, M/M, Meet the Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 09:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2344025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cachinnation/pseuds/cachinnation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The king of all Asgard had three sons, and of the three Odinsons, one was golden and tempestuous and kingly, and the other two were right headaches. After Charles, Odin stopped bringing children home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Get a Midgardian Boyfriend: a Guide by Charles Odinson

**Author's Note:**

> Many liberties have been taken with the movie-verses, the comic-verses, and mythology. Such is life.

The king of all Asgard had three sons, and of the three Odinsons, one was golden and tempestuous and kingly, and the other two were right headaches. After Charles, Odin stopped bringing children home.

What happened was this: Odin’s excuse was that he had had a migraine. Loki was working on perfecting fire illusions, which meant that robes and curtains spontaneously combusted into glowing green when everyone least expected it, going out abruptly as soon as Loki fled any impending retaliation, shrieking about how _nothing was actually burnt canst thou not enjoy a little humor_. Thor had devoted himself to his training, which meant he smashed whatever he could reach and used every opportunity to casually mention that he would very much like to receive Mjolnir already when Jul rolled around again.

So Odin muttered to Frigga that he needed to get out of the palace and he’d be back shortly and to let him know if she needed him to pick up anything while he was out and then galloped hastily off down the Bifrost as quickly as Sleipnir would carry him. He had a quick jaunt around Midgard, took in a few poetry readings, and watched the humans celebrate some quaint knock-off festivals. It was adorable.

He returned to Asgard refreshed and full of Allfatherly pride, ready to be welcomed home by his powerful and somewhat wild but still very promising brood. “I bring you a gift!” he boomed as he strode into the great hall.

“New daggers?” asked Loki from the shadows even if he was supposed to have outgrown the moody teen phase a few centuries ago.

“Mjolnir?” asked Thor, yet again demonstrating his inability to take a hint.

“A brother!” announced Odin, displaying the contents of the bundle in his arms: a human toddler with enormous blue eyes.

Odin’s mantle burst into green flames.

*

When it came down to it, though, Frigga did not object, so that put an end to any debate over whether or not they would keep the child. Odin proudly dubbed him Oleg Odinson, but the child was also rather precocious and managed to convey through gestures and simple sentences that his name was _Charles_.

Loki and Thor sniggered at the strangeness of the syllables, and Odin gave a sigh that rattled the palace, but Frigga petted the boy’s hair and called him Charles Odinson and put an end to that too.

Thor found the new family addition vaguely disappointing in that he was too small and weak to wrestle or smash things, which meant he provided no entertainment worth having in Thor’s book. Loki (who scoffed at the idea of Thor having a book at all) also took an instant dislike to him, however, partly because Charles always seemed to be trailing along behind Frigga’s skirts, even sitting in on their magic lessons. Loki felt distinctly threatened when Charles turned out to be quite good at casting illusions even with very little training.

“He encroaches upon my position in Mother’s good graces,” he complained petulantly to Thor over dinner.

“Aye, and in Father’s,” added Thor unhelpfully, downing a fresh flagon of wine in one go. “Just yesterday I overheard the Allfather telling Charles he was born to be a king. The boy has gained too much in so short a time.”

“There is no need to worry about _that_ ,” insisted Loki, rolling his eyes and plucking at a bunch of grapes. “Have you forgotten that Father tells such things to _all_ children? It will be the cause of grief someday, I wager.”

“Oh, well that’s all right then,” said Thor, comforted.

*

A few years later, Loki’s patience ran out at one of the great banquets. Thor, though still denied Mjolnir, had found a sizeable meat tenderizer and was waving it about, roaring with mead-soaked laughter and bravado. “Behold! It is I, the god of thunder!” he bellowed, smashing a fruit bowl to cheers and applause.

“Will you face silvertongued Loki, the god of mischief?” shouted Fandral from the sidelines, egging him on. Loki pretended not to be pleased to be included.

“What am I god of?” piped up Charles, who had been allowed to stay up past his bedtime against everyone’s better judgment and was trying not to drowse in Frigga’s lap. “I want to be the god of something.”

Volstagg guffawed. “Then a god you shall be! And of what do you wish to be?”

Charles looked thoughtful. “I should like to be the god of mischief.”

Loki went frosty cold and the tumult of the room quieted a bit. “No, _I_ am the god of mischief. Pick your own domain.”

Charles’ eyes misted -- a thoroughly unfair tactic. Even Sif gave Loki a somewhat reproving look. 

Loki gave what could only be described as a screech of frustration and pointed an accusing finger at Charles. “You are no god! You are not even Asgardian! You are _adopted_!”

The hall went silent as death after the requisite gasp of horror, waiting for Charles’ inevitable meltdown. But Charles did not cry; in fact, he barely even blinked. “We are, the both of us,” he retorted evenly and matter-of-factly.

“So set aside your vain designs on my -- what?”

“Indeed, I am adopted,” agreed Charles pleasantly, “and you are also. Did you not know your own origin?”

Loki shot Odin a wild, panicked look, and Odin gave his own wild, panicked look at the candles burning low around them and muttered something about how he ought to be getting some Odinsleep soon.

Later, servants passing by the royal chambers swore they heard shrieking from within that lasted long into the night. “--Asgard and Midgard and Jotunheim?? And come a century’s time, will you return from Vanaheim with another?! At the least, you might have told me of my blue skin when first I grew old enough to select my own garments!!”

Frigga just looked at Charles in mild surprise. “Who told you?”

Charles shook his head and calmly chewed on a drumstick the size of his head. “No one. I simply knew.”

And that was how they discovered Charles could read minds.

*

After things had settled down a bit and Loki finished setting things on fire for real, he seemed to take an odd liking to Charles after all, as if they might find some solidarity in both being adopted. Charles was happy to be loved by any and all, so he eagerly responded to Loki’s somewhat suspicious affections and followed him around nearly as much as he had followed Frigga. After all, he had always had a bit of difficulty keeping up with the long strides and belligerent energy that defined Thor’s clique.

Indeed, though he grew fairly quickly and always ate well, Charles never achieved much height. At his tallest, standing straight, he came up to the uppermost circular adornments on Thor’s chest piece, but no one seemed to mind much, not even Charles. He could hold his own in a duel if necessary and had read almost all the books in the royal library. He even persuaded Odin to allow him to use the Bifrost to go on field trips to other realms to observe their wildlife, specifying that Thor was not invited because he always thought they were hunting trips. 

This ended for a while after something very large and foul-smelling almost ate Charles in Jotunheim, but he was mostly upset he hadn’t had a chance to sketch it before the guards snatched him out of harm’s way.

Loki found him languishing in the library with a small mountain of biology books. “Bored?”

“House arrest,” grumbled Charles, snapping a tome shut with a bit of force. “I tell you, I was in no danger. I may lack Thor’s brawn, but I am not so helpless as the Allfather seems to think me. Yet Heimdall denies me use of the Bifrost now. I attempted to persuade him that I desired only to sit and gaze at the realms in his company, but he would have none of it.”

Loki laughed. “Heimdall may not read minds, but he sees through your little untruths.”

Charles gave a plaintive sigh. “I should like Heimdall’s sight. But, lacking it, I must resign myself to being satisfied with mere woodcuts.”

Loki sat next to him, close enough to brush his arm, voice soft with conspiracy. “Little brother, what if I might offer to show you another way to other realms?”

Charles perked up a little. “Do such things exist?”

Loki grinned. “They do. I avail myself of them from time to time when I please but Heimdall does not know them.”

Charles’ cheeks went pink with excitement. “Where would we go?”

Loki pretended to think.

“Midgard!” shouted Charles, almost beside himself, not at all minding the look of annoyance on Loki’s face at having his dramatic pause interrupted. But a moment later, Charles’ brow knit anyway. “You hope I might stay there or become lost or trapped.”

Loki gave him an exasperated look. “You take all the fun from pranks and tricks when you divine them in advance. It is not sporting in the least.”

“Well,” said Charles reassuringly, “I still do very much desire to go. I should like to observe Midgardians in their natural habitat and make note of their various rituals.” Because, for all of his bookishness and studies, sometimes Charles was not the most discerning. 

In fact, the trip to Midgard was a colossal failure. Loki had at least hoped that Charles would find it disorienting or upsetting or that he would be disgusted with it -- basically, anything that ended with Charles agreeing that they should seek to remake it like sensible representatives of Asgard (adopted or otherwise). Instead, Charles took in everything with a childlike delight and invited himself to private festivities for his anthropological studies.

“What curious attire!” exclaimed Charles in a stage whisper. (Loki had recently acquired a horned helmet that he thought was both dashing and practical in that it blocked Charles from poking about in his head.) “Are these traditional costumes?”

“No,” said Loki, who had been to Midgard before and conquered a few gated communities as a weekend project. “It is a costume party, which means--” But Charles had wandered off already after an interesting group of specimens.

“Your cape is magnificent,” said Charles rapturously to a tall male Midgardian standing alone in the corner and surveying the festivities. He hadn’t dared hope it might be the culturally correct greeting, but the man seemed genuinely pleased.

“Thank you. Yours also has a nice flow to it,” he responded.

Charles made rapturous mental field notes about establishing contact. “I am Charles Odinson,” he blurted out in a hasty rush, reasoning that it was difficult to go wrong with introductions.

“Erik Lehnsherr,” came the reply, accompanied by a curious glance. “I haven’t seen you around before -- are you from Accounting?”

Charles panicked for a moment and then cheated by reading an explanation straight out of Erik’s mind. Oh dear, this was a...closed festivity, held particularly for members of a certain tribe -- er, “company,” they called it -- and that appeared to be their chieftain flying drunkenly about upside down in flamboyantly red and gold and oddly cape-less armor. He wondered if Loki knew, but Loki was too busy to give any sort of useful indication; he had managed to catch his horns in the chandelier and was trying to disentangle himself.

“Oh, er, yes. Accounting. Temp,” said Charles, borrowing more words from Erik’s head to sound a tad more legitimate. “And...research.”

Erik nodded, following his gaze and also watching Loki with polite bafflement, refraining from commenting. “Well, if you see any expense reports from Manufacturing Systems Development come through, see if you can expedite their approvals, hm?”

Charles laughed to cover up the fact that he had no idea what Erik was talking about and also the fact that he was wondering if he ought to go help Loki. Even Thor had wanted a silly helmet (as if Charles needed mindreading to catch the way he looked at Sif sometimes) but at least his wing-like adornments had not protruded to impractical levels.

The problem was solved when Loki pulled down the entire chandelier, though the partygoers seemed fairly accustomed to wanton and sudden destruction and cheered instead of being shocked. Pleased and eager for the spotlight, the chieftain destroyed a few tables with energy blasts from his hands in a display of fairly advanced technology for primitive Midgard. This made everyone conveniently forget about Loki before they could start wondering if he was from Human Resources, whatever that was.

Not that Loki didn’t think humans could serve as adequate resources if properly managed. He occasionally tried to tell Charles about this when he tired of teasing him for being short or wanted an accomplice for a new prank.

All in all, it was a fantastic evening -- Charles had at first been mildly disappointed at the lack of species diversity at the event (not so much as a domesticated canine!) but it had been an illuminating study of wildlife as well. Given how the redheaded female had ended up with the male in the purple suit in one of the quieter corners, he also suspected he had witnessed some sort of time-honored fertility ritual.

Most delightful of all, Erik had stayed casually aloof through most of it, but he also hadn’t seemed to object to Charles sticking close either. Or had it been Erik who had stayed close out of mild interest and curiosity?

Loki grew bored as the evening wore on and began casting a few little serpentine illusions to liven things up and hopefully incite a harmlessly panicked stampede with a bit of light trampling, but that failed terribly. As soon as the first ripple of alarm began traveling through the crowd, the chieftain began crowing about “the latest and best prototypes in Stark immersive virtual reality holographic technology.” (Charles privately felt that he was just stringing words together at this point. It was a fair guess, given that he had imbibed a great deal and, though still flying, was beginning to gently bump into walls and the ceiling.)

Loki, roundly displeased that someone else was taking credit for his work, stormed over and informed Charles tersely that they were going home.

Erik bristled a little (a fascinating instinctive reaction.) “This guy bothering you? Want me to tell him to get lost? Or is he your boyfriend or something?”

Charles sighed inwardly. This was the drawback of going out with Loki: he had no sense of cultural sensitivity whatsoever and would offend someone like this. Erik was also probably threatened by Loki’s fuller cape, though Charles guessed it wouldn’t be polite to mention that. “No, no,” he said instead. “He is my brother.”

Erik gave him a look that said Midgard _did_ have a basic understanding of genetics.

“Adoptive brother,” revised Charles, adding hastily, “but the family bonds and loyalty remain unchanged.”

Erik glowered but backed down, still squaring his shoulders to look a bit more physically intimidating. “Well, if he gives you any trouble…”

Charles realized he shouldn’t have been delighted, but he really couldn’t help it. Erik, unaware of the difference in species, viewed Loki as a threat to his domain (did that mean he now considered Charles part of the territory? -- to be considered later) and was displaying classic dominance assertion behavior! What spectacular field experience! And witnessing it so closely!

“We should get coffee some time,” said Erik awkwardly as Loki finally succeeded in prying Charles away.

Charles assumed this was some sort of hunting expedition, but any invitation to bond was welcome. He brightened considerably. “Yes! Yes, I should enjoy that.”

On the way back, Loki informed him that it was actually a mating ritual, and Charles was a bit shocked and secretly pleased.

*

So Charles met Erik in a designated coffee establishment a week later, and Loki was absolutely not invited.

“You’re not from Accounting,” said Erik straight off, though his tone was more curious than accusatory. “I tried to look you up at work.”

“Well, you have failed to even don a cape today,” Charles retorted, feeling equally deceived.

“No one here wears capes on a daily basis,” insisted Erik, gesturing about him, a little baffled. “It was a costume party.”

Empirical evidence did seem to indicate that there was some accuracy to his claim. Charles felt a little self-conscious, which was unacceptable given that he had chosen his blue cape that really brought out his eyes and usually made him feel rousingly confident.

“It’s okay,” added Erik in the same awkward tone he had used when suggesting coffee in the first place. Charles wondered briefly if it was a courtship signal or just a sign of inexperience on Erik’s part. “Look,” he continued, “you...uh...wear what you like and maybe we’ll figure something out for next time.” He then cut off -- it seemed to be a breach of etiquette to mention “next time” already.

“It’s okay,” said Charles warmly, rather pleased that he had picked up the local phrase and put it to use so quickly. Perhaps something of his innate Midgardian heritage still lingered after all. He was mildly disappointed that Erik was not hugely impressed but then again that was a sign he was using the phrase naturally and correctly.

The coffee and the time spent drinking it together went very pleasantly indeed. Charles explained to Erik that while he had been born in the area, he had grown up far away, and Erik seemed to accept the “not from around here” excuse, though Charles heard him tucking away a little mental note to find out more later, maybe next time. Charles made his own mental note marking down that there seemed to be no taboos against thinking about “next time” at this stage.

*

A few months later, Charles appeared at the family dinner table, and Odin managed to dump a goblet of wine over the snout of the whole roast boar before him. “What are you wearing?” he demanded. “Coming to a gathering like this practically naked--”

Charles sat down with all the dignity he could muster. “I’m not _naked_ , Father.” He managed to resist rolling his eyes. “In fact, some cultures rarely wear capes, so only your cultural perceptions are viewing me as underdressed. On a practical front, what I am wearing is more than sufficient to keep me warm.” He tugged proudly at the knit wool over his torso, remembering the most enjoyable afternoon he had spent with Erik picking it out. “It’s called a _cardigan_.”

“The Midgardians all wear such things, or even less,” piped up Loki, his voice deliciously scandalized.

“So this is Charles’ natural state?” inquired Thor, looking intrigued. He wondered privately if this meant that he could never visit Midgard incognito; it was all good and well for Charles, but Thor’s great arms would surely rip right through their puny cardigans. It was a rather satisfying image.

Loki grinned, trying to look innocent and keep his voice conversational, not really succeeding at either. “Sometimes he wears even less when he’s with his favorite Midgardian.”

Odin’s remaining eye bulged dangerously. “What?”

Charles turned furiously red and glared at Loki. “You said you would not tell! I instructed you not to say anything!”

Loki just leaned back in his chair. “I simply wished to share the good news with the family. Given the bliss on your face when you are with him, I was sure you were about to make some happy announcement soon anyway.”

“Charles is courting a Midgardian?” broke in Thor, who had been imagining shredding wool by the pure power of flexing.

Odin rubbed his temples. “Charles, when have you been venturing out to Midgard? I thought you absorbed in your studies…”

“Hands-on studies,” snickered Loki.

“At least Charles never lay with a horse,” pointed out Thor, not hugely fond of how pitiably uncomfortable Charles looked at the moment.

Now it was Loki’s turn to look affronted. “That was eons ago! Must you bring it up every single opportunity you see?”

Thor crossed his arms unremorsefully.

“So,” said Odin, returning to the original topic, “you have been visiting Midgard and engaging in courtship rituals there? And this...this scanty garb is part of it?”

“Do they really seem to find it alluring?” asked Thor curiously, plucking at one of Charles’ sleeves.

Charles went pink. “It’s...traditional,” he fudged a bit. “And anyway, Erik seems to like it.” This was also not entirely true; Erik had recommended something called “tortoiseneck” (or at least the name had been along those lines), but even Charles found them a bit embarrassingly snug. They did, however, suit Erik very nicely. At any rate, Erik actually seemed to prefer Charles in his Asgardian garb, sometimes even requesting that Charles wear his cape when they spent a quiet evening in.

“Erik!” boomed Odin, breaking into Charles’ thoughts. “At least he has a respectable name, ‘eternal ruler,’ as it were.”

“Odd that a mortal should be named ‘eternal,’” mused Thor.

“We are mortal too,” Loki reminded him. “They just live for a much shorter time than we do.” He gave Charles a glance full of faux compassion. “We’ll be sure to give you a sumptuous funeral in a century or so.”

“Loki…” started Frigga, her voice reproving with a hint of warning, and that did succeed in silencing him for the moment.

Odin leaned somewhat despairingly on her shoulder. “Frigga, my queen, he is still a child! He was never supposed to grow up so quickly! Already gallivanting off to realms unknown and seeking a mate.”

“I would hesitate to call it something quite so serious…” Charles tried to break in.

Frigga patted Odin’s beard comfortingly. “You, too, were young and reckless once. You cannot begrudge our son his own adventures and lessons.”

“And it is not ‘realms unknown,’” added Charles, “it is my homeland.”

Odin heaved another regal sigh and remained where he was in order to encourage further beard-patting.

Instead, Frigga simply turned her kindly gaze on Charles and said something more frightening than any of Odin’s disapproval or angered rantings could ever hope to be: “We should meet him, Charles; why don’t you invite him home for dinner?”

*

In fact, Erik was much more willing to visit than Charles had expected him to be. Charles had always known he was skeptical about the existence of other worlds, and Charles’ attempts at explaining massive universe-trees had not been very successful, but he also wanted to see why exactly Charles was the way he was, and Charles _had_ frequently spoken about his adoptive family in glowing terms.

“They’re not all like Loki, are they?” asked Erik just to be safe as they drove out of town on the appointed day. He was wearing a white polo shirt and khakis, but Charles had told him they’d have the appropriate attire prepared for him there, whatever that meant.

Charles shook his head. “Oh certainly not. Loki is...unique. I suppose the whole family is unique, really, but they are not like Loki. Wait, stop the car -- this is the place.”

Erik pulled over next to a field and squinted out the window. “This is the pickup point? I thought you said we’d be going to an airport. There isn’t even an airstrip here.”

Charles looked a bit sheepish. “Well, we’re sort of flying, but not from an airport. I may have misled you briefly on the details.” He could hear Erik having second thoughts at this point, so he hustled him out of the car as quickly as possible, led him into the field, and looked up. “Heimdall, if you please.”

Erik opened his mouth to say something, but then the Bifrost descended in a prismatic flash, and any words he might have had were drowned in the rush.

*

A small entourage of servants met them with horses and escorted them back across the bridge to Asgard proper. Charles rode close to Erik both because he wanted to catch his every reaction and also because Erik had apparently never ridden a horse before and seemed tensely on the verge of slipping a little too far sideways at any given moment. Charles was fully prepared to reach over and seize him by his shirtfront or just offer to share a horse if necessary.

Erik was also not doing well on his mount because he was not paying attention. Of course he had the presence of mind not to gape slack-jawed at everything, but the mental signals he was broadcasting at Charles were roughly equivalent. He had, at the very least, expected someplace terrestrial.

More servants greeted them at the palace and whisked them off to prepare them to appear at dinner. “I have ensured that we will both use my chambers for the time being,” Charles told him in a fondly hushed voice as they strode down the halls. “I have informed them that you prefer to live simply and are unaccustomed to the constant presence of servants. I can explain things to you if necessary.”

If Erik were to be completely honest with himself, he would not really mind having a few servants and a palace with arched hallways. Occasionally he imagined what it might be like to be king and show off his powers all the time instead of working in engineering at Stark Industries, and of course Charles knew this, but he was polite enough to pretend he sort of didn’t.

The main room of Charles’ apartments was larger than Erik’s entire flat (though perhaps not larger than the secret lair he once constructed for himself in an abandoned subway tunnel, though that was a different story), but again Charles was polite enough not to act as if he were showing off. Secretly, though, he was disproportionately thrilled every time Erik was impressed; so few things in Midgard impressed Erik.

The servants dressed them officially in banquet formalwear, choosing a deep maroon for Erik that Charles thought suited him handsomely _and_ nicely complemented Charles’ own blues. He watched Erik turn around a couple of times, letting the cape flare out before pausing to run his hands very carefully over the light armor they had given him. 

Charles felt a bit of a thrill run through him as he overheard Erik wondering if he could just stay here forever. If Charles’ research was at all accurate, moving in together was a very big step in Midgardian courtship.

They were announced at dinner as His Highness, Prince Charles Odinson, and his guest, Erik of Midgard. Erik had never been announced at dinner before and rather liked that too. Mostly he liked how everyone turned and looked as he entered with Charles at his side and his cape swirling dramatically behind him. Technically, Erik was by Charles’ side, but Charles let him have this one.

Odin and Frigga sat in the middle behind the long, lavishly spread table, and Erik followed Charles’ lead in bowing respectfully before them. Normally he would not have cared to bow before anyone, but these figures had a properly majestic presence and a house that would put Tony Stark’s mansions to shame.

“So you are the Erik of my son’s poems,” said Odin with a heartily booming tone.

Erik paused and glanced at Charles inquiringly. “Poems?”

The tips of Charles’ ears turned pink. “We have...we have a long tradition of poetry and storytelling here; I would have told you eventually, or--” and his voice trailed off into a mumble “--possibly never at all.” He glanced over to Thor and Loki, who were watching intently from just off to the side. “Anyway, Loki is the one with the real skill for words here.”

“Does he write poems about me?” asked Erik, still taking everything in stride.

Charles cleared his throat awkwardly. “Not the epic sort, I’m afraid.”

“I have written some very wittily scathing limericks about you, though,” put in Loki cheerfully.

“However, he is no longer permitted to recite them at the table,” added Thor in what he probably supposed was a reassuring tone. Then, because he was not always good about stopping when he was even barely ahead, he added, “But they usually are very well received with a lot of mead around a fire with warriors.”

“I do not write limericks,” clarified Charles with a glance of irritation at his brothers.

“Won’t you be seated?” broke in Frigga smoothly, putting an end to the squabble. “The cape suits you,” she told Erik as he took his place. “You wear it well.”

And he very nearly glowed.

“Are you typical for a Midgardian?” Thor asked as they began the meal. “Can you also read minds as Charles does?”

“Erik is not typical,” put in Charles proudly. “He is quite tall and strong for a Midgardian, which I have determined is due to an optimal genetic heritage along with some very favorable mutations.”

“I also control metal, which is as atypical as mindreading among people,” cut in Erik, though his tone was still politely conversational and thus Charles’ feelings were not hurt.

Thor perked up. “Oh, that is a much easier explanation than what Charles usually gives.”

“That’s because Charles’ genetic heritage is a Midgardian wench fornicating with an entire library,” added Loki smugly.

“Better than a frost giant and horse,” retorted Charles, scowling. This went against the general truce of not mentioning _that_ when guests were present, but Charles felt Loki had violated the terms of their ceasefire already.

“What can you do with metal?” asked Thor, ignoring the brewing fight.

“Most anything I please,” replied Erik, also trying to remain aloof. “I can mold it, warp it, move it, call it….”

Thor swallowed a large bite of some sort of roasted fowl. “Can you fight with it?”

Erik looked about for a moment, and Charles could hear him gauging what answer might make the best impression on the family before remembering that everyone at the table was wearing armor and deciding to go for honesty. “Yes, I can fight very well with it.”

Thor smashed a goblet in delight. “Then we must fight after dinner!” he announced. “I have been searching for a new opponent for some time, and I would be honored to try my skills against yours.”

Charles patted Erik’s thigh under the table as he looked slightly alarmed. _No, no, that’s a good sign; it means he likes you. Just watch out for the lighting bolts._

“What is your title on Midgard?” asked Frigga conversationally before Erik could inquire further on that line of thinking.

He paused, trying to figure out exactly what that question meant. “Head Engineer of Manufacturing Systems?”

Charles cut in again hastily. “Erik may not have been born into nobility, but he has leadership in his blood, and of course his extraordinary skills certainly place him in a unique position of--”

“He has the gleam of a conqueror in his eye,” said Odin approvingly.

Erik perked up further at this. “Well, I have had a few ideas about what I might do with the world if I were in charge of it.” Under his breath, Loki muttered something about never being recognized as a conqueror.

Odin remained focused on Erik. “Oh indeed? That could possibly be arranged.”

“What,” said Loki very calmly.

“Well,” continued Odin with a terribly reasonable tone, “as you all know, Charles is originally from Midgard. One day he may choose to return to his homeland and stay for a while, in which case it would be prudent to ensure that the realm is welcoming and hospitable for him.”

Loki stared about disbelievingly, and Thor patted his shoulder. “I’m sure Father has never offered you the same because nothing could ever hope to make Jotunheim hospitable, even with the Allfather’s powers.”

“Speaking of settling in,” added Odin conversationally, “have you two produced any offspring yet?”

Erik choked on his mead.

“Father!” squawked Charles, “my studies have indicated that in Midgardian culture that is not a question to be asked lightly! I require at least 23 more dates -- that is the Midgardian term for their courtship rituals -- before I can even begin to consider broaching such a subject. I have done extensive anthropological research, and you are ignoring all of my findings!”

“That is because you have not shared such findings,” put in Loki, “and if you have, no one was listening because it was full of incomprehensible jargon that very quickly became tiresome.” No one said anything in support of this, but neither did they voice any disagreement.

“Well,” said Erik in what he hoped was a reasonable tone, “I suppose it isn’t really a question we can address in-depth, given that it is biologically impossible for Charles and me to reproduce.”

“It’s okay,” said Odin warmly. (He had picked up the slang phrase from Charles and insisted on using it, no matter how mortified Loki sounded when he insisted it was not fitting for the Allfather to try to sound young.) “You two certainly have the option of adopting. After all, most of my children are adopted, and this has not been as great a cause of trouble as Charles might have led you to believe.”

“We, er, can consider it,” said Erik politely. “But Charles and I _do_ still have 23 more dates before we bring it up seriously.”

Next to him Charles groaned and buried his face in his hands. _You don’t have to humor them…_

But considering that he was currently in a different _realm_ surrounded by impossibly strong and tall armored beings, and considering that they had bestowed an excellent cape upon him, Erik rather felt that he did. He didn’t mind half so much as he expected to, though.

The rest of dinner went quite smoothly, in fact. Erik wistfully complimented Charles on having such a caring and poised mother, which Frigga overheard. She did not comment, but she did smile. After the food had been cleared away, Thor challenged him to some friendly sparring and managed to persuade Odin to give him temporary permission to use Mjolnir so that he might show off a bit too.

Erik borrowed some spears and shields from the guards nearby and floated them about himself, wielding them without too much difficulty and even keeping Thor at bay by pushing away his armor. He even deflected Mjolnir itself once or twice, and Charles looked on proudly.

When they tired of that, Erik also demonstrated how he could use the metal in his armor to make himself float, and Thor was a bit envious of that. “Of course I can pilot our ships,” he told Erik, “and Mjolnir takes me where I please when it is in my hands, but you are much less likely to punch a hole in the ceiling of the great hall.”

“I suppose that is correct,” replied Erik, not knowing what else to say.

“Let us drink to flight!” thundered Thor, distracted by the arrival of a fresh round of mead, which spared Erik any further awkward conversation for the time being.

Even Loki came around in the end. “He is not as tediously awful as I had initially thought,” he told Charles tipsily in the wee hours of the morning as the Warriors Three joined and Thor loudly tried to show Erik off to Sif even as he simultaneously attempted to show Sif off to Erik. “In fact, he has some excellent ideas of how worlds ought to be ruled by the strongest and most superior, and I thought he made some very good points when we were conversing earlier.”

Charles sighed, watching Volstagg envelope Erik in a bearhug that lifted him clean off the ground. “Yes, that is something he and I are going to have to discuss more seriously later.”

“You ought to listen to him,” said Loki, taking another sip from his goblet. “He is full of good ideas. I suppose I can approve of you two.”

*

The sky was starting to lighten by the time everything wound down enough for Charles to steal Erik away and crawl into bed with him, promising he could have his armor and cape back the next day.

“They might not be there,” argued Erik, words slurring a little. “I’m half sure that I’ll wake up and find that this whole thing was a ridiculous dream and I’m back in my own bed instead of in another realm.”

Charles brushed his hair back and tugged the sheets around them a little more snug. “I suppose you are not used to trips that are quite so long-distance, hm?”

Erik let his eyes drift shut. “And here I always thought I was fairly well-traveled… Your family probably thinks I’m…” he searched for a word while also thinking about how ridiculously soft the pillows were “...quaint.”

“Not at all,” Charles reassured him, kissing his cheek. “Well, maybe a little but not as much as they had expected, given your Midgardian upbringing, and they all liked you very much.” He paused, his voice quiet. “I almost think they like you better than they like me.”

Erik struggled back to consciousness at this, reaching out to try to stroke Charles’ hair and only succeeding in jabbing him in the forehead instead. “Don’t forget that it only matters if they like me or not because they care about you.”

“Oh,” said Charles, rubbing his forehead and snuggling in. “I suppose that is true.”

“Yes, don’t be stupidly melodramatic,” mumbled Erik, drifting off again.

Charles thought this was a bit rich coming from Erik, but he didn’t say so.

*

The nice thing about the family liking Erik was that now they only gave Charles a moderately hard time on a regular basis, and when, 27 dates later, Charles decided to move to Midgard for a while, they were quite supportive and still offered to conquer a few countries for him. Charles did not allow Erik to accept this, but the family was pleased that Erik seemed to recognize the magnanimity of their gesture.

They all dropped in from time to time to check in and say hello, and Charles and Erik came back to Asgard with some regularity for dinners and ceremonies and sparring. And really, despite the rather disappointing dearth of proper wars, everyone seemed rather mysteriously happy.

Odin in particular was very gratified to see that Charles took after him as the years went on, adopting a significant number of children with Erik, all of whom were unique in their own ways too and only wreaked minor havoc on their family reunion trips to visit the Asgardian side of the family.

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [endingthemes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/endingthemes) for all her feedback. Without her, this would have been a very dark story, and now just look at it.


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